


She's A Rainbow

by Ladderofyears



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Pansy Parkinson, Background Pansy/Theo, Birthing Partner Pansy, Draco Malfoy & Pansy Parkinson Friendship, Graphic Depiction of Labour, Graphic Depiction of Waters Breaking, Harry is trapped at Ilvermorny, Harry is under quarantine, Kind Harry Potter, Lock Down Fest, Lonely Harry, Love, M/M, Magical mirror, Male Lacatation, Mpreg, Pansy Parkinson is a Good Friend, Pansy is a thief, Pansy says an Incantation, Sad and Happy, Slytherins Being Slytherins, Spattergroit Crisis, Tiny bit angsty, Touch-Starved Harry Potter, optimistic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:01:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23262895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladderofyears/pseuds/Ladderofyears
Summary: Draco never dreamt that he'd have to give birth without Harry, but when his beloved husband is put under MACUSA quarantine, he finds that he doesn't have a choice. With all the bravery he can muster, the best friend in the whole world and a pilfered magic mirror, Draco discovers that hope can be found even when you least expect it.* Please read the tags, lovelies. This fic has graphic depictions of waters breaking, labour and male lactation. It is also quarantine inspired which can be upsetting. Please don't read it if you think you might feel triggered. Stay safe! *
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 15
Kudos: 287
Collections: Lock Down Fest





	She's A Rainbow

**Author's Note:**

> Title shamelessly pinched from the brilliant Rolling Stones song.

Draco was sat in a deck chair, watching Pansy pick flowers, when his waters broke. 

Halfway through a sentence, Draco had been expressing his admiration for her current crop of chrysanthemums when a sharp twist in the base of his belly promptly shut him up. Without any further warning, a cringe-inducing gush of warm liquid began to spread rapidly across his cotton trousers and through the seat of the chair. 

In a matter of moments Draco was both sopping wet and entirely terrified. He had never once imagined that there would be so much fluid. He was so startled that for several seconds Draco couldn’t bring himself to speak aloud.

“Pans,” Draco finally managed, his voice quiet and wavering. “I’m _wet_. That is, your deck chair. It’s ruined, I think. I’m sorry.” His heart began beating ten to the dozen and the bright sunshine of the seemed like the universe’s spiteful joke. Draco decided to start his sentence once more as he wasn’t sure that he’d made much sense. “I think you need to take me to to St. Mungos, love. My waters have broken, love… Your deck chair. It’s covered in amniotic fluid.”

Pansy, to her credit, didn’t seem at all flustered by the wet deck chair or the liquid pooling beside his shoes. 

Draco couldn’t understand why his best-friend wasn’t as panicky as he was, but then he supposed she’d been on the sharp end of labour pain herself. Pans was a mother of two and as such, wasn’t known for losing her head in a crisis. _Merlin_. Draco felt his nice, rational chain of thoughts flee from his brain as the cramp of his first contraction coiled and spread from the base of his spine. 

This wasn’t going to be easy, Draco realised. This was going to really, _bloody_ hurt. 

“We’re all prepared,” Pansy replied. If she was at all perturbed by the Draco’s saturated trousers she didn’t show it. Pansy placed her secateurs down on the grass and stood, brushing the grass off her knees. “Your hospital bags are sat beside the fireplace. Your Mother is on standby and I promise you, you’re going to be fine. You’re in labour, Draco. Everything is okay… Everything is exactly as it should be, love. You’re going to have your daughter.”

“Not like this,” Draco replied, shaking his head. He stood gingerly with Pansy’s help and felt hot embarrassment as another heated gush of liquid soaked his inner thighs. “I didn’t want her to come like this.” His legs felt wobbly and not dissimilar to when he’d been hit with a Jelly Legs Hex during DADA. Draco supposed that must just be the shock settling in. Waves of Pansy’s familiar magic rolled over Draco’s skin as he felt himself being magicked dry. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this, Pansy,” he managed. “I didn’t… I-I _don’t_ want to-” 

Draco lapsed into silence, fighting hard against the overwhelming swell of panic that threatened to rip out of his chest. 

He knew that was going to have to do this hard, brave thing without his husband’s hand to hold, but Draco really didn’t want to. He knew he had Mother, and Pansy, and he loved them both immensely but they weren't enough. They weren't the same. 

***

Harry was trapped in Massachusetts, in fucking America and was was due to stay there for the next three weeks. 

His husband was stuck inside the ancient walls of Illvermorny, locked in a mandated quarantine. It was all the fault of this bloody, _bloody_ Spattergroit crisis. It was some new, viral stain of the already horrible disease spreading its grim, germ-ridden tentacles through the magical world and both the Ministry and MACUSA were taking every reasonable measure to keep the disease at bay. Draco could only wish that he’d paid more attention to the ruddy _Prophet_ when he’d had the chance but it was far too late to worry about such concerns now. 

Harry and he had been too wrapped up in the latter stages of their pregnancy bubble to pay attention to a magical disease a continent- and several thousand miles- away from them. 

The two of them had been living in happy ignorance, decorating and redecorating the Grimmauld Place nursery and buying babygros in every conceivable colour when Harry had gotten an owl from Ilvermorny. The ancient wizarding school had requested that Harry give a speech to celebrate their award winning Quidditch team. 

And Harry, to his eternal credit, hadn’t thought twice about saying yes. The visit would have meant only a single night away and Harry knew how much his visit would mean to the young group of wix whose flying brilliance had broken records. Harry had said that a speech was a simple request and so easy to fulfil. Water off a Grindylow’s back. 

That was bloody Potter all over, Draco thought, feeling another tense spiral of pain spread out from the bottom of his spine. Still their bloody _Saviour_. Always trying to make other people happy. 

Harry should have been home before Draco had even had a chance to miss him. 

One speedy international Portkey later and Harry should have been wrapping his strong arms around the swell of Draco’s bump, telling him how much he was loved and cared for. It should have been Harry, not Pansy, at Draco’s side when their baby daughter made her arrival in the world. 

Ilvermorny’s first case of Spattergroit had been discovered the very same afternoon that Harry had arrived on their campus. His pleasant, unremarkable tour of the castle grounds had been disturbed by MACUSA representatives racing in and casting unbreakable _Colloportus_ spells on the doors. They swathed the building with impenetrable, unbreakable warding spells too. Harry, the students and even the Professors had been herded into the school dormitories without even a word as to what was going on.

Draco had learnt the rest of the story through Harry’s owled letters. The afflicted young witch had thankfully made a complete recovery but MACUSA’s quarantine rules were as watertight as any enchanted cauldron. 

No one- not even the _Chosen One_ \- was able leave for eight weeks. Not even the impending birth of his first child had swayed the MACUSA officials. 

The rules, they had informed Harry, were for the good of everybody. 

***

“No, I know you don’t _want_ to,” Pansy replied, linking her arms around Draco’s waist, and leading the way back through the doorway of her Chelsea town-house, “but your Magi-midwife told you only two days ago that your girl could arrive anytime, sweetheart and she’s decided that she’d coming now.” Pansy paused, _Accio’ing_ a small cloth bag of full of sanitary pads. “You’re going to have to accept it, Draco love. You can’t fight the inevitable. Everything is going to be fine, I promise.”

Pansy led Draco into the downstairs bathroom and pressed the pads into Draco’s hand. “You need to put on a couple of these so you don’t wet your clothes again,” she said, her voice matter of fact. “First, I’m going send Mifty to tell Cissa the news and have her to meet us at St. Mungos. Then I’m going to get your hospital bag and some light snacks to take with us. Shall we aim to leave in about ten minutes?”

Draco nodded, feeling his pulse start to race at the thought of leaving for the hospital. 

He held onto the side of his taut belly, feeling dreadful at the idea of Harry missing their babe's first days and weeks. Draco didn’t think that he was at all ready to face childbirth without his husband, but the unrelenting ache in his lower back was telling him a different tale. Their stubborn little Potter-Malfoy daughter was going to arrive entirely on her own terms and there was very little that Draco could do about it. 

“Can you try and contact Harry as well?” Draco asked, sitting cautiously down on the side of Pan’s bath. Draco knew that he had to get his breathing under control and ready himself for the challenge of the hours ahead. “Just to tell him what’s happened? I know that he can’t be here, Pans, but-”

“But you wish he could be,” Pansy cut in. She kissed the top of Draco’s head and gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “And I wish he were here too, Draco. But you mustn’t be worried. Cissa and I… We’ll look after you. I’ll do what I can to get hold of Potter while you get yourself sorted. I’ll call your Magi-midwife and ask if she can meet us at the hospital too.”

By the time that Draco had readied himself, and respelled himself dry once more, Pansy was waiting in the hallway. His best-friend clasped Draco’s hospital bag in one hand and held out her other elbow for Draco to steady himself on. 

“And before you ask, I couldn’t get hold of Harry,” Pansy said. “The Ministry have restricted the floo connections between here and America since the start of this dammed Spattergroit business. I left a message with someone at MACUSA though. They’re going to tell Harry as soon as they can.” 

Draco felt conflicted. Were they to leave for St. Mungos Harry might not be able to firecall him. There were a dozen different departments in the hospital and each of them had different coordinates, whereas Harry knew Pansy’s number by heart. He looked at his best-friend imploringly but Pansy wasn’t in the mood to be swayed. 

“We’re leaving now,” she said shortly, putting the hospital bad on the floor for a moment while she picked up a handful of floo powder. “You know full well that male pregnancies are riskier, love… And I’m not having you give birth on my fucking carpet. My _Scourgify_ always did leave much to be desired.”

***

“Salazar,” Draco managed. He had his hands wrapped around Pansy’s shoulders and his head rested on her shoulder while he rocked his hips from side to side, trying desperately to find a position that would grant him even a modicum of relief. “How… However did you do this twice Pans?” Draco uttered, desperate and scared. Labour was worst pain he had ever endured and it was unrelenting in its torture. 

“Because you forget this bit,” Pansy replied, moving her body in tandem with Draco and taking much of his weight. “Disappears like a forgetting charm. Best day of your life, love.” 

Draco wasn’t sure that he believed her. His daughter was slowly pushing herself downward and Draco couldn’t quite imagine another agony so acute as this. Each contraction felt like a vice was twisting his belly and there wasn’t a position on Merlin’s green fucking Earth where he thought he’d he ever feel comfortable again. Much of Draco’s labouring pains had all concentrated on his lower back; the idea of laying down made him feel perfectly nauseous. 

It had been five agelong hours since his waters had broken and each contraction felt as hot and sharp as a hex burn. There were piling on top of each other too, and Draco had very little chance to catch his breath between each. Luckily Draco’s Magi-midwife had told him only a few minutes before that he was very close to being fully dilated. 

“Everything feels so fucking tight,” Draco panted, screwing his eyes shut as tears leaked from the corners. “Sharp like a bloody _knife_ … Bloody bastard Potter and do-gooder-bastard-magical-bastard sperm-”

“ _Do_ try to talk less Draco,” Narcissa chimed in from her seat beside the bed, “You’ll exhaust yourself before you even get to the delivery.”

“And I think that perhaps Draco knows his own body,” Pansy shot back with a voice that brooked absolutely no disagreement. “He can say anything he jolly well _wishes_. You should go and talk to that receptionist, Cissa. See if they’ve heard anything from Harry-”

“I’m going to curse Harry’s bastard bloody bollocks off,” Draco hissed as soon as Narcissa was out of earshot. “Getting me up the duff and leaving me to squeeze out his Potter spawn, while he fucks about in… _Ahhh!_ Fuck! Floor.” Draco gasped. “Now! Please!”

The Magi-midwife helped Pansy to get Draco into position on his hands and knees which relieved some of the pressure from his back. He spread his legs widely, trying his hardest to loosen up his pelvis. Draco grunted and sweated though another hard contraction, ever fibre of his being impatient to push. The Magi-midwife gave him a quick examination, confirming with a smile that he was finally, mercifully, fully dilated. 

“Looks like it’s time to deliver,” she said, cooling off Draco’s sweaty skin with a flick of her wand. “I can feel her head. She’s very close. You’ll have your daughter in your arms in no time at all.”

Draco vocalised noisily, his body working on instinct as he felt every part of his body tense up at the intense sensation.“Push with the contractions,” Pansy said, kissing Draco’s forehead and combing his damp blond hair back behind his ears. “Trust your body, darling. It knows how to birth your daughter.” 

Draco felt his and Harry’s daughter moving inside him, each contraction bringing her closer to the safety of his arms. Quelling the quaking in his limbs and channelling all his energies into pushing, Draco centred himself entirely on the painful process of bringing their daughter safely into the world. He needed to do this, Draco realised: he needed to do for his husband who already adored their daughter more than anything else on the Earth. Harry who wanted a family of his own and had so much love to give. 

Harry’s flawless love had created their daughter and his powerful magic that had planted her in his womb. Draco bit his lip and focussed on their marital bond, that small knot of magic that was forever entwined to his own heart. 

And then Draco pushed. He pushed and he pushed until he felt their daughters head stretching him wide open. 

Everything was agony and everything was aflame and suddenly, at the end of a long, hard push, felt his baby push his body so wide that he he wondered, crazed, whether he might be ripped into a thousand pieces. Draco groaned, his throat raw and then he felt the slick wet slide of his baby leave his body. 

She cried the very second that she was born, and so did Draco. 

Draco cried for Harry, a man so brimful of love that he radiated and shone. Harry, whose own family had been torn away from him before he had the chance to ever know them. 

Draco cried because Harry should have been here. He should have been here to share the most wonderful moment of both of their lives. It was Harry that should have been the one to cut her cord, freeing her to live her own full and happy life. 

The Magi-midwife wrapped Draco’s daughter in a blanket that Pansy had pre-charmed to feel soft as gossamer against her skin. His best-friend touched her for a fleeting second before passing her over to Draco’s impatient arms. He clutched her close to his skin, awestricken at how beautiful she was. 

She had a smattering of unruly dark hair and, best of all, what was _absolutely_ Harry’s nose between her baby cheeks. 

***

Within an hour, Draco found himself lain in bed with his impossibly perfect baby latched to his nipple and suckling happily. 

Draco was enjoying the feeling of her small weight in her arms and the warmth of their skin on skin contact. Parts of him were painfully raw despite the Magi-midwife’s potions, and he was far more worn-out than he had ever been in his life, but Draco found that he didn’t mind too much. 

He was a man in love. Draco couldn’t take his eyes off his babe’s chubby little legs or her wriggly little arms. His heart swelled at the sight of tiny fingernails only the size of seed pearls. 

“You and Harry have made a gorgeous little witch,” Pansy admired from the side of the bed. She lent over, trying unsuccessfully to right Draco’s hair. Draco imagined he might rival Potter with its untidiness at that precise moment. “I must say, she’s all her other father. One couldn’t accuse you of playing away, Draco.”

Draco snorted at Pansy’s blatant cheek. “I only hope that she doesn’t inherit Harry’s myopia,” he countered. “I couldn’t abide living with two bespectacled bloody Gryffindors.” Draco finally took his eyes from his baby and flicked them over to Pansy. She looked pretty tired herself, with dark smudges beneath her brandy brown eyes. “Thank you,” Draco said. “For everything. I would have been absolute in pieces without you.”

“Nonsense,” Pansy replied, running a careful finger over the side of the baby’s face. “It was the best of a bad job, darling. You and I _both_ wish that I were Harry, love. I’ve seen far more of you in the last twelve hours than I ever dreamt or desired.” She stood up and stretched her shoulders. “Now, I’m absolutely famished and although you’re quite moon-eyed and besotted by that still-nameless daughter of yours, I suspect that you might be too. I’m going to get myself one of those vile coffees from the Elf Cafe and some kind of sandwich. Can I get you something too?” 

“Please,” Draco replied, finally realising how hungry he actually was. “Anything, love. I don’t mind.”

Pansy dived though the door and Draco sighed sadly. Pans was absolutely correct, of course. He yearned for Harry with every part of his soul. Learning to nurse his baby had been an experience that he’d hoped to share with his husband alone, rather than the Magi-midwife and his best friend. Mother, at least, had made herself scarce for that particularly tender moment. Draco had been none too keen on her eagle eyes watching him pop out his engorged, milky nipples and try tease his baby into taking her first nourishment. 

Happily, his daughter had fallen asleep since, lulled to sleep by Draco’s heartbeat. When her lips had dropped from his chest, Draco had been content to let her rest there. She was comfortable, contented and entirely unaware of how many people already loved her. 

Pansy returned within a few short minutes. As promised, she was holding several paper bags from the Elf Cafe. Pans placed those on the shelf beside the bed and Draco watched as she cast a stasis spell on them. Quite bizarrely, his best-friend was also holding a mirror. Draco looked at the cracked gilt of the crooked spirals that twisted all around the edges of the pane and deduced quickly that the item was as ancient as it was magical. The object was entirely incongruous with their modern St. Mungos surroundings. 

Pans gave Draco her most Slytherin of smiles as she slid onto the bed beside Draco. “You absolutely _never_ saw this mirror,” she said. “It’s old magic and entirely illegal but I couldn’t _not_ pinch it for you-”

“Pinch it?” Draco interrupted, mystified. Pans had always had light fingers for pretty, shiny objects back at Hogwarts but Draco thought she’d knocked that habit on the head when she’d married Nott and turned herself all respectable. He wondered, briefly, if some of his pain potions he’d taken were playing belated tricks with his brain. 

“Only from Theo’s Mother,” Pansy clarified. She levitated the mirror in position in front of Draco. “So not real, _proper_ thievery… And I’ll put it back tomorrow, sweetheart. That old witch won’t ever know that it was gone.” Pansy gave the mirror a tap with her wand and it began to glow a shining, iridescent pink. “And please don’t worry sweetheart: it’s not a Dark Object,” Pansy explained. “Nothing that can hurt your baby. It’s an enchanted mirror, Draco. Theo told me about it... Been in the Nott family for aeons, apparently. Seems that you Malfoys aren't the only Pureblood family with a few dodgy objects left under their floorboards. With this mirror, it’s possible talk to _any_ other wizard in the world though _any_ other mirror, darling. You only need the incantation-”

“The incantation?” Draco repeated. The significance of the object only just starting to dawn on him. If this mirror could let him talk to any other wizard in the world then he use it to talk to Harry. Use it to show Harry their perfect new baby. Draco felt his heart skip a beat with mounting excitement and he felt the small response from the baby in his arms. 

“And luckily for you, Draco Malfoy,” Pansy replied, smirking from ear to ear, “ _I_ have a husband that would give me anything.” Pansy _Accio’ed_ a tiny piece of parchment from Draco’s hospital bag and unrolled it carefully. Draco recognised Theo’s spidery handwriting easily. “ _Speculum magica mihi voluntas quidem cordis mei_ ,” Pansy incanted, her voice melodic and low. The mirror began to glow brightly and their reflections began to disintegrate and dissolve. 

“ _Circe!_ ” Draco murmured. “It’s really worked. Merlin! You clever bloody witch, you-”

Pansy laughed. “None of that language in front of my niece,” she laughed, clearly overjoyed. “Cissa has sent several messages to Harry, keeping him up to date with our afternoon of excitement. He knows that he needs to be waiting beside a mirror. I’ll let you have some privacy, my darling.” 

***

This was turning into quite the most memorable of days, Draco decided, watching intently as his husband’s image slowly took shape in the mirror levitating before him. It felt odd, really. It was more than five weeks since the quarantine had begun and Draco had only seen Harry’s face though the sparkling green flames of his fireplace. 

Now, seeing new worry lines beside Harry’s eyes and the anxious grey pallor of his skin, Draco felt almost unmanned by the sight of him. Harry looked weary, even apprehensive. He’d lost weight: a light blue Illvermorny sweatshirt hung loosely from his frame. He was unshaven and his hair was a wild mess of knots. Harry made no attempt to wipe away the tears that were staining his cheeks as he stared intently at their daughter, his eyes as big as saucers. 

“I’ve got someone for here for you to meet,” Draco said, the depth of his love thickening his words. Draco knew that nothing he could possibly say came close matching the emotions of the moment, but that didn’t matter a single Sickle. He still had to try. “She’s just the most lovely baby in existence,” Draco rambled, his words running into one another as they raced out of his mouth. “She already has your voracious appetite Harry, not to mention your habit of dropping to sleep at the drop of a hat. That disreputable dark hair is all yours as well, and-”

“Draco, I don’t know what to say,” Harry interrupted, his voice breaking as he spoke. There was a despair in Harry’s eyes that reminded Draco of those nights, rare now, where his beloved woke up shaking with fear, his nightmares more real than the world around them. “I’m so, so sorry… I should have been there for you. Been there to look after you. I’ve had so much time to think and I know that I shouldn’t have left you, love… I shouldn’t ever have left your side. It was arrogance… Just pure, bloody _arrogance_ -”

Draco couldn’t stand to hear such utter nonsense. Perhaps Harry and he ought to have paid closer attention to the _Prophet_ , but no one could have foretold the quarantine. 

Draco pressed his hand against the glass of the mirror, wishing more than anything that he could have his husband beside him. “None of that matters now,” Draco said. “And it wasn’t arrogance. I won’t believe that for a minute. It was kindness that took you to America, Harry. That’s all past now and it doesn’t matter. All that’s important now is the future. You hadn’t a choice, lovely… That quarantine was necessary. That Spattergroit? Well, it’s _nasty_. I read about it in the _Prophet_. If it had got to our shores it would have hurt people. People like my Mother and Aunty Andi… So you did the right thing. Did the only thing that you could have done.”

Harry choked out a sob at Draco’s words. “I’ve been so lonely,” Harry said, wiping away a tear with the edge of his thumb. “So lonely. All these people around me, but you’ve been were the _only_ person I wanted. The only person that I needed… And now our daughter’s here and all I want in the world is to hold her and I can’t even do that. She looks so teeny, Draco. So very small.”

“She didn’t feel very teeny when I was pushing her out,” Draco admitted. His eyes left Harry’s for a second and flicked down over their baby. Their little girl, still sleeping soundly, looked entirely peaceful. “She’s seven pounds, so a good weight. She still needs a name though. Gods, Pansy and Mother haven’t given me a moment of peace on the subject. We’re supposed to owl the Ministry Wizarding Records Office within twenty-four hours of the birth.”

“You wanted _Iseult_ , didn’t you?” Harry asked. “The goddess of love? You were pretty set on that name when I left… And there was _Seraphina_ too; remember when we rowed about names and you Apparated to the Manor in a furious temper? You could pick one of those if you wanted. They’re both pretty names.” Harry laughed, a small broken noise. Draco felt his heart clench at the sound: he supposed that Harry hadn’t had much to laugh about in the last five weeks. “And I’m sorry about that row too, love. I was pigheaded about your choices. Obstinate. I didn’t listen-”

“You were right though,” Draco replied, his voice uncharacteristically placid. “You didn’t want her to have to a name she’d have to carry like a lead weight for the rest of her life. I was as guilty as you for not listening. _Iseult. Seraphina_. I don’t think either of those names are right, anyway. Not now I’ve actually met her.”

Harry pressed the surface of the glass with a wand-calloused forefinger. “I’m counting down the minutes until I get to meet her too.” He quirked a small smile in their daughter’s direction and looked, for the first time, like his heart wasn’t broken. “But our agreement still stands, Draco. You carried the baby so you pick her name. Seems only fair, love.”

Draco could only agree. He watched as their little girl’s tiny rosebud lips opened slightly. The Magi-midwife had told him that she’d need another feed before Draco was able to nap. He could feel the pricking of absolute exhaustion behind his eyes and he stifled a yawn. 

“I’d like her to be called Iris.” Draco replied, all of a sudden certain it was the right choice. “In Greek mythology, Iris was the goddess of the rainbow. She’s our rainbow, Harry. Our symbol of hope for the future. The quarantine? You missing her birth? None of that really matters, love. Not when we’ve got a whole lifetime of love in front of us. _Iris Lily_. I think that’s her name, Harry. _Iris Lily Potter-Malfoy_.”

“Iris Lily,” Harry said softly, his face flushing with colour. Harry’s eyes were shiny with feeling and Draco couldn’t remember when he’d looked more vulnerable. Potter was supposed to be the strong, brave one. “Our beautiful girl. I’m going to hurry home to you, Iris. I’m going to be with you as soon as I can be. I’ve already missed so much.”

“We love you,” Draco said. Pansy’s enchantment was beginning to fail. The edges of Harry’s reflection were blurry and the iridescent sparkles of magic were starting to fade. “We love you so, so much. Hurry back. We’ll be waiting, Potter. We’re not going anywhere.”

If Harry replied, Draco was fated never to hear it. He felt a ripple of old magic coil across his skin as the spell snapped and his husband disappeared from view. All that Draco could see now was his own reflection. He looked tired, dishevelled and sore: precisely like he’d just had a baby. 

Focussing his best wandless magic, Draco managed to levitate the mirror up to safety beside his sandwich. _Merlin_ , he was still so hungry. Iris Lily had woken too. She pressed her tiny lips to Draco’s skin, rooting and fidgeting for a feed. She was already so much like Harry, Draco decided as he guided her tiny mouth to his aching nipple. 

It didn’t matter that his husband was trapped in Massachusetts. Even thought they couldn’t be together, Harry, Iris and he were already a family.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading xxxxx


End file.
